Recollections of a Forgotten Past (2017 Rewrite)
by StormFeather17070
Summary: Maiya's Past A 2017 rewrite of my previous work, Recollections of a Forgotten Past. (ttps:/p?storyid 9052532) Thanks to GranulaBars for being the best beta reader :) TW:Rape TW:Child Soldiers TW:PTSD
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

{ Come away, O human child!

To the waters and the wild

With a faery, hand in hand,

For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

― W.B. Yeats, The Collected Poems }

There was a clap of thunder.

Or at least, I thought so.

As I ran excitedly to the window - hoping to see a flash of lightning, mother stopped me for the first time. With a grim expression, she took us down to the basement and shut the door, huddling us close.

There were no windows in the basement, so none of us could see what was happening outside, but it must be raining extremely heavy outside. There were no end to the sound of thunder - the deafening sound repeated itself over and over again, and it went on for a long time.

It was strange. Never had it rained so hard before, and we never had to go down to the basement when it was raining. The basement was a safe space - Momma had said. Did it mean that we had to stay in here to be safe from the roaring thunders outside?

 _BOOM!_

There was a deafening crash, and the impact was so loud it brought my little sister to tears. As Momma struggled to stop her crying and comfort here, I couldn't help but wonder where did the sound come from. Was our house struck by lightning? If so, that would explain why Momma brought us down here to hide from the angry gods.

Suddenly, I realized something was missing.

"Momma, where's papa?"

There was a pause, a surprised look on Momma's face, as if I just caught her unguarded. As sister resumed her crying, Momma slipped out of it, hushed her, and turned back to face me.

The one lone light bulb in the basement swayed with the quakes, making shadows dance across her face as she tried to hold back the tears in her eyes, her lips pursed in a pained expression until she finally spoke, "He has gone to help the country, my dear." Another pause. Would you help me take care of your little brother and sister before he comes back?"

I have never seen Momma cry before. As I stared silently at her pleading face, I gulped, feeling a sense of dread rising in my veins.

"Yes, Momma."

She finally smiled.

"That's a good girl." She patted my head, as my little sister had finally stopped crying. We then sat in silence as the thunders outside continue to hammer on to no end.

"But… when is papa coming back?"

There was another crash, this time louder as the old bookshelf beside us tumbled onto the ground. Frightened, my little sister started crying again. Amongst all the crashing and cries, Momma's reply was almost too soft to hear.

"Soon, my dear." Momma replied, "Soon."

I was eight. And I never saw my papa again.


	2. Part One

**Part One - Soldier**

{ Barbed wire, Barbed wire – this is what one sees first…

At the first glance, this barbed, rapacious barrier looks senseless and surreal; who will try to cross it, if snowy desert spreads as far as eye can reach, no tracks, no people, snow lies two metres thick, one cannot make a step – and yet this wire wants to tell you something, give you a message. It says: take note, you are crossing the border into another world. From here, you won't escape. This is a world of deadly seriousness, command and obedience.

Learn how to listen, learn humility, learn how to occupy as little room as possible.

Best of all do what is for you to do.

Best of all keep quiet.

Best of all do not ask questions.

—Imperium (Warsaw 1993) }

The sound of gunfire resounded throughout the barracks as a boy in a soldier's uniform drew in his last breath.

As his lifeless body collapsed to the ground while Seven looked down at it coldly, gesturing for the new recruits to drag it away. He wouldn't have a proper burial. He would just be dumped into a large pit - along with the other recruits who broke the rules and gave up their lives for it. With her rifle lowered, Seven nodded at the seniors who watched her perform the task, and they nodded back as an acknowledgement that her task was done and she was free to go for lunch.

She wasted no time as she arrived at the canteen, grabbing the last of a piece of stale bread on the counter. She gobbled it up in seconds. It wasn't enough to satisfy her hunger, but it was more than what they usually got. Most of the food went to the higher ups, Seven noticed. Them child soldiers hardly had anything to eat. That was one of the reason why some of them, desperate, tried to escape even though it was futile, just like the one she had killed earlier -

Her stomach lurched as she was reminded of how she had, without hesitation, took a life out of one of their own. The way his soulless eyes stared at her, not even begging for mercy as she fired a shot at his head, putting him out of his misery. She then fired another shot at his chest, his knees, until his body slumped over like a puppet that came unstrung. Blood sprayed out of his chest like a waterfall, his spattered on the ground…

Seven forced herself to swallow it down her throat. She couldn't throw it all up right after she finally managed to get a bite. She couldn't let that piece of bread go to waste. Food was crucial when they were expected to fight but didn't know when it would be provided for them next. She didn't want to die. Not like this.

She stared at the number on her uniform. 511207.

She couldn't even remember his number.

Since when had she gotten so used to killing, she couldn't even remember the people she had shot in cold blood? They were all faceless souls in her mind - souls that she was forced to take for her own survival. For if she did not pull the trigger to prove her loyalty, she would be dead alongside with him.

 _He broke the rules. He was naive, just like all the others who had died._ Seven thought bitterly. _I had no other choice._ Even if she wanted to go home, there was nowhere to go to. This was her home now; she couldn't remember what home looked like anymore. She didn't understand why he would risk his life to go back to something that may not exist anymore. Didn't he learn anything from watching the executions of all the others who did the same?

She gulped down a cup of water. It's best to forget about him, she told herself. She couldn't spare a thought for anyone else when every day was a gamble to stay alive. If she were to keep her sanity and survive in this place, she had to push her emotions away and steel herself for more killings. It has already been two years, she should be used to it by now.

The whistle was blown and Seven slung her rifle over her shoulders, her jet black hair covering her face, masking the slight crack in her icy demeanor. When she looked back up and joined the rest in line, her brown eyes was devoid of any emotions.

Seven was lucky; she survived in the battlefield, yet -

The Camp was a battlefield itself.


	3. Part Two

**Part Two - Despair**

{ If you haven't cried, your eyes can't be beautiful.

―Sophia Loren }

Silent as the night, Seven collected what little things she had in her possession - her uniform, her rifle, her shoes, towel, a small notebook and a water bottle under her arm. The other girls around her did the same. None of them spoke to each other, but each of them knew of what was going to come.

They were moving camps.

The three of them had been ordered to change their sleeping quarters at the end of the day. From this day onwards, they would be sleeping under a different 'roof', - one much bigger than their current tent, and they would be sharing it with another group of people. No longer were they allowed to remain in their current tent, it was an rule in camp that they were to move immediately after they've had their first bleeding.

Once she saw the speck of blood on her dirty gray uniform pants, Seven had already foresaw that she would be ordered to move by the end of the week. She had been given a rug, just like the other two girls, and it was the only one they would get. It was strange, getting used to the feeling of a damp rug tucked between her legs, but it wasn't that bad compared to everything else that was going to happen to them.

The girls moved in a line, still unspeaking, towards the larger tent. There was a tense atmosphere around them, all of them knew what it meant to sleep in that tent. It was inevitable, and even though no one talked about it, they observed. The night hung over them like a draped black curtain blocking all stars and even the moon. It was pitch black, as if there wasn't a flicker of hope as they approached the dimly lit tent, ready to accept their new fate.

Nobody greeted them as Seven opened the flap, and nobody said anything even as the three of them entered, looking a little lost. Nevertheless, they quickly surveyed the area and situation, three of them separating to find an empty space where they could sleep in. Seven felt a few stares on her back as she settled in, but still no one said a single thing. Not any of the women inside.

They didn't have to. As soon as Seven and the rest entered the tent, they knew -

That from this night onwards, they were girls no longer.

They were women.

Shortly, the flap of their tent opened once more.

Despite not turning over to see who there, the tense atmosphere caused by that person's appearance told Seven all she needed to know.

She turned around.

There wasn't just one person. There was a group of them. There were more than twenty of them, all here for the same reason.

As the tent erupted into cries of pain and muffled screams, Seven tried her best not to flinch as one of them grabbed her arm, pulling her against his body. She could feel his hot breath on her face, her body cringing in response as she tilted her head to the side, closing her eyes in an attempt to cut herself away from the reality that was closing in around her.

 _It wouldn't be that bad._ She told herself. Every woman in this tent have experienced it, and it was something every woman had to go through. It mattered not that she was only twelve; it would happen to her sooner or later. Such was the fate of every woman in the barracks. Despite her instincts to kick out and scream, she forced herself to suppress them as she bit down her tongue, remaining in position even as her pants were dragged down, her shirt tugged apart. She shivered as she felt his fingers roam all over her body, but yet she did not move. It wasn't until her legs were spread open, and she felt the immense pain coming from between her legs did she finally cry out in pain, her thighs contracting in response as her arms moved of their own accord, trying to push the invader away.

 _It hurts._

 _It hurts._

 _Please stop…._

Her reaction only resulted in the male's fury, as he clamped both of his hands down on her throat, cutting off her source of air. Sputtering and choking, there were black spots in her vision as Seven struggled for air, her arms now clawing at the other's merciless fingers as she tried to pry them away. There was only one thought on her mind -

She couldn't breathe.

 _Please._

She stared into the male soldier's face, her eyes pleading as the world collapsed around him, until the only thing she could see was the cruel, hard lines on his face. His face soon faded into a blur, and there was a ringing sound in her ears as her vision slowly turned black-

And suddenly her world lit up again.

With a painful gasp, she felt the pressure lifted off her throat as she took in breath after breath, her lungs struggling to keep up as she panted like an athlete after a race. Her body was limp as only thing that she seemed to be able to do was breathe - after being suffocated till she almost died.

As she was busy getting enough air, her assailant grunted in victory as he restrained her arms above her head, making sure she couldn't struggle again. Before she could recover from her earlier treatment, he forced himself into her again, making her scream in pain as she felt the pain increase tenfold, as though she was being ripped apart from the inside. The male soldier paid no heed to her feelings, his iron grip tightening around her wrists as he roughly forced himself upon her, taking away any shred left of her dignity. Her lips trembled as she endured his continuous assault to her body, the bleeding from her core did nothing to alleviate her pain, nor instill any sense of pity in her assailant. She had no idea that it would hurt that much, nor had she any idea that she would be used, over and over again until every one of them were satisfied. Her eyes blurred once more as they grunted with pleasure over her pain, tears falling from her face in silent protest.

 _Was she weak?_ She thought, for letting emotion take over her mind. She thought she had already left everything behind - anything that would make her _feel_. Yet it was pure emotion that she felt, _raw pain,_ as she searched for the part of her that threw it all away. She would soon get used to it, she desperately thought, as another male soldier entered her. That was her only salvation. She would soon get used to the pain so it wouldn't hurt as much anymore.

Until she wouldn't be able to feel it anymore.

She was right.

The assaults never stopped.

But the part of her that cried for help did.


	4. Part Three

**Part Three - Broken**

{ Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers,

but to be fearless in facing them.

Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain

,But for the heart to conquer it.

―Rabindranath Tagore}

 **-After nine months-**

Sweat. It poured down her forehead like a leaking pipe, burning into her eyes. Her vision was already blurry a long time ago, was it minutes, hours? The girl was already exhausted; she was on the verge of giving up. Her wrists were curled up into fists, her fingernails digging into her skin. Her face was as pale as a sheet of white paper, the lines on her forehead deep.

 _Push one two. Push one two. Push one two._

The sun was high in the sky, its rays shooting through the scarce clouds. She was protected from the scorching heat, in a little hut specially built for these occasions. The wooden hut was not comfortable; a mattress was all it had. They brought her here, but they would surely take her back.

The lady was kind. She was beside her all the time, encouraging her, helping her. She was patient and experienced, though not professional. She knew what to do, what to use to ease the pain. She understood. She urged. She cared.

Or maybe she didn't. Maybe she was just doing her job.

The tension broke when the cry was finally heard. It echoed around the room, as if announcing to the world its presence. Never would she have thought that the cry of a newborn baby would be such a wonderful sound.

 _I...did it._

The midwife handled the infant gently, holding it beside Seven so she could take a look. It's skin was still red, it's eyes closed tight. Seven stared at it in wonder, that beautiful being over there...it was her child.

"He's a boy. Would you like to hold him?"

Despite the fatigue and faint feeling, she couldn't resist the urge. Her arms reached out in a reflex action, as the midwife placed the infant into her arms slowly.

My son.

She watched the tiny child with adoration, capturing his features one by one. His head was a little misshapen, but the lady said it was alright. He had beautiful eyebrows, a little nose, his skin felt so soft she was almost afraid of hurting him. He sneezed, causing her to smile. It was worth it, she strongly believed. Hours of labor can never compare to something like this. He was hers, and hers only. For the first time in years, she felt happiness crawling into her from within, she suddenly felt a strong wave of protection and love for the son she had just conceived.

The midwife watched Seven hold her baby quietly. If Seven wasn't preoccupied with him, she would have noticed the unusual expression on the lady's face.

It was pity.

The elder woman knew all too well what would be next; she'd seen it happen to hundreds of other girls. To them, perhaps the only moment they could cherish was the few minutes given to them to hold their child, to feel his temperature against their skin, to breathe in the same air together as one.

Heavy footsteps were heard. They were here. The midwife opened the door to let them in, bowing her head in the process. There were two of them this time, both looking bored in their uniforms.

"We are here to collect the baby."

With that sentence said, they finally caught Seven's attention.

 _They were going to take him away._

"NO!" As both of them approached her, Seven tightened her arms around her son, her fearful eyes looking at them with disbelief. After going through all the pain, they were going to take him away from her?

Without a word, they brutally snatched the baby out of her arms. A hard kick to her stomach inflicted such pain on her she had to drag her body to reach the doorstep, where they were heading. In a desperate motion, she grabbed one of the soldier's left leg, begged him with a pleading voice.

" _Please..."_

The gaze that met hers wasn't the one she wanted to see. His eyes were hard and cold, it stared into her soul with such loathing and disgust she was frozen at the spot.

"Get out of our way."

With those words thrown back at her, the soldier kicked up to her face while the other sniggered.

 _No, they can't take him away. I can't let go. I can't give up. He's mine._

 _He's my son._

But she couldn't even move from her spot as the backs of the soldiers moved further and further away. The midwife was at her side immediately, she could feel herself being pulled away.

 _No! I can't…_

 _I…_

The last thing she saw before blackness took over her vision was the golden ray of sunlight surging through the windows.

It was so bright and sunny, her eyes hurt.

So did her heart.

(Author's Note: Since F/SF decided to introduce Sigma as Maiya's son [ _god bless Narita, the only one who didn't forget about Maiya and made her relevant again 3_ ], the following part of this chapter will be treated as an alternate ending.)

She was drowning.

It was so dark. When she looked up, she couldn't even see the surface of the water.

She kicked, struggled, tried to swim, but nothing worked. She was running out of air, her lungs were like on fire. She closed her eyes, feeling the water around her envelope her body. Soon she stopped trying to breathe, and the world turned silent.

She could only feel herself sinking deeper and deeper into the endless whirlpool, carrying its weight down with her.

"You're awake."

The minute she opened her eyes, she regretted it. She was alive after all.

Summoning all of her energy, she slowly sat up from the mattress and turned to the lady with an urging look.

Seven opened her mouth, but no sound came out of it.

She tried again, this time it was nothing but a croak.

"My...son..."

The midwife lowered her glance, and then moved over to sit beside Seven. Her hands touched Seven's palms softly, with a sad shake of her head. "He's gone."

Those two words struck the girl like bolts of lightning. She remembered what happened, and how her baby was brutally snatched away from her, but in a small part of her heart, she hoped that it was all a bad dream.

Did they kidnap her the same way they took away her son? She couldn't remember. Although she had no memories of her parents, nor her relatives, she yearned to know who they were. She was angry at them for not being able to protect her, but more often than not, she thought about how it would be if she had grown up in a normal family. She missed them, but how could you miss someone you don't even remember?

Those feelings became stronger as she looked into the sorrowful eyes of the elder woman.

She must feel sorry for me, she thought, and she must have felt sorry for every single girl who sat on the same mattress as she did right now.

Did her mother feel just as painful when she was separated from her?

With wobbling feet and an increasing nausea, Seven forced herself on her feet and stepped outside. The midwife rose to her feet with a cry, rushed over to Seven and tried to coax her to lie back down.

"They will be here soon to pick you up, so you should get some more rest when you can..." Was what Seven heard before she noticed something over the woman's shoulder.

Sharp eyes were one of the useful qualities she had that made her one of the elites.

Yet, it wasn't just the uncanny sight that caught her attention; it was the smell of blood. Of rotten flesh.

The midwife was hiding something from her.

A cold glare and a push was enough to get the woman away from her, but she still tagged behind timidly, as if she was afraid of her. Seven ignored her reaction, her gut feeling was telling her that something was not right, that she should back away right now.

But she couldn't.

With shaky footsteps, she managed to advance forward in a somewhat slow speed.

It was warm and sunny as usual; even the trees have lost their colour and seemed to hang about lifelessly, wilting and turning black due to the heat. There weren't many trees that could still survive in this weather, but a few did. The particular tree some distance away from the hut was barely surviving, its branches thin and without vigour. A dying tree.

 _There._

 _The source._

Seven stumbled forward clumsily, moving in a zombie-like stance. The midwife was not behind her anymore, she was merely looking at her from the outside of the hut, watching. The girl soldier continued walking, as if her only goal in life was to reach that tree.

One step.

Two.

Three.

One step. Two. Three. One…

She repeated the process over and over again, giving herself the encouragement to go on. As she managed to get near enough to really see what the source of her curiosity was, it was all she could manage to remain standing on her feet.

There were flies. A swarm of them, buzzing around a small, pink bundle. When she looked closer, she could make out see the flies gathering around its nose, its mouth, its eyes, its...

Its her son.

It was her son.

But all there was left was a tiny corpse.


	5. Part Four

**Part Four - Escape**

{ When you have lost hope, you have lost everything.

And when you think all is lost, when all is dire and bleak, there is always hope.

― Pittacus Lore, I Am Number Four }

"Oy, kid! Get out of my way!"

A tall man with a grumpy face shoved the little boy soldier out of the way, as though he was in a hurry. The other child soldiers parted away from him, doing their best to stay out of his way as the man, though thin, had incredible strength and could easily hurt them if he wanted to.

Most of them had only seen him recently, and no one knew where he came from. Some of them might be curious, but none of them asked any questions. It wasn't that the man looked frightening; they were also already trained in nature to do what they were told and ask no questions. The man seemed like an important person though, since he had a whole tent to himself and was always treated nicely by the officers.

"Ragger!" The Head cooed, his face lightening up as he saw the other man walk in.

"How many?" Ragger asked scruffily, pulling up his sleeves to expose pale flesh.

"Six. I need you to heal them as fast as you can. Some of them are already on theverge of death." The Head replied, directing Ragger to where the injured generals lay.

"I will do my best." Ragger nodded, striding over to the injured men, most of them unconscious. He placed a hand on the chest of the first man, chanted some verses in an undetectable language, and closed his eyes.

Soon after, a pale green glow started to form on the palms of the mage. The injured man cringed, yet he felt no pain – there was just a mild tingling, a slight itch, and it was pain, the wound, the blood, everything.

"Amazing..." The injured man – now completely healed, looked at his chest in amazement. Was this the power of magic? He had never believed in such a thing, until he experienced it and seen it with his own eyes. It was truly a miracle. He was going to die. But he's alive. He's alive.

"Thank-" The man started, but Ragger had already moved on to the next patient. He was careful, but fast; gentle, but firm. In just a few minutes, he had already healed all of the previously injured soldiers in the tent – all that was left was to let them rest and recover for a few days.

The Head nodded in satisfaction. Ever since Ragger had joined their army, everything was going well. They no longer lost valuable men due to fatal injuries. They no longer had to worry about medical supplies. The kids could die and rot for all he cared.

"I will be heading back to my tent." Ragger announced, after making sure that everything was in place. He gave The Head a look, then proceeded to leave right away.

"Hold on there, Ragger." The Head frowned, displeasure forming on his face. "Won' tyou care for some beer? Stay and enlighten me about this 'magic' of yours."

Ragger shook his head. "No, thanks. Ain't got any time for beer, I've got a Mage Killer on my trail." He said, pushing open the flap of the tent and left without turning back.

The Head sighed. Pity Ragger was a man of few words, and with such horrible manners. He would have loved to learn more about this healing magic, and whether it was possible to learn it himself.

Taking a look at the now sleeping patients, The Head started to worry. It was agreed upon that they would provide cover and shelter for the lone mage as long as he healed their generals and soldiers, but for how long? To his knowledge, Ragger claimed that there was an assassin after him, and that he needed a place to hide for some time. He found the military most appropriate, as it would be really difficult to track him down here, and besides, who would take refuge in a place as dangerous as a battlefield?

Of course, he had not believed the mage until he actually provided proof of his ability. The Head's eyes turned big at the wound that was painfully throbbing his arm a while ago, now completely healed. Ragger would mean the difference in their operations. All they had to do was to ensure they survived every single battle, and get more kids once they start to die off.

Kidnaping and training kids were easy – replacing men was difficult. That is why Ragger meant so much to them. Although they had not won any of their recent moves, they had not lost any valuable men. It didn't matter that half of the kid soldiers died – they could always get more.

Ragger said he had to stay low for a while. What could he do to make Ragger stay low forever?

The Head's eyes gleamed bright in the darkness of the tent. He needed a plan to keep  
Ragger here. But how? What could he promise Ragger in return of his services? They had nothing. They owned nothing. What else could they offer...? Women, perhaps?

The Head fell into deep thought, but just as he was about to leave the tent…

" _Enemy aircraft spotted up ahead! Enemy aircraft spotted up ahead!"_

"What's happening?!" The Head rushed out in a panic, only to see his soldiers panicking. He grabbed one by his collar, ready to punch him in the face if he did not explain, but at that moment a sudden crash told him everything that he needed to know.

As everybody crouched down and braced themselves for the crash, the tents around them went up in flames. People started screaming – regardless of whether they were mere soldiers or ranked, fear made them forget discipline. Child and adult soldiers alike started running away, but as they ran, the aircrafts gave no mercy. The bombs started showering upon them like rainfall, and it didn't even take a minute to bring the camp into complete chaos.

" _Ragger! Where are you?!_ " The Head bellowed, rushing over to the tent where Ragger resided. "Ragger! _Are you in there?!"_ He struggled amongst a sea of bodies to reach the tent, hoping that the mage was somewhere around that area. "Ragger!" _Maybe if I find him and escape with him, I won't have to worry about any injuries... I might even escape from this alive!_

With utmost effort, The Head crawled his way through, cursing and praying for his life at the same time. Yet when he was almost there, a bright flash of light lit his path, and all of a sudden, there was fire in front of his eyes, and everything was quiet. The tent was burning, as were his clothes, his hair, his ears, and his skin. He screamed in pain, his hands clawing his face as he tried to put out the fire in his hair.

 _Ragger, I need Ragger to heal me..._ In the midst of the crawling and clawing, The Head could finally make out the figure of the man he was looking for. He started to yell – yet another wave came and he saw the mage fall in front of his eyes. And even as he was burning up, even as he was on the brink of death, The Head began to laugh.

In the end, the healer could not even heal himself. In the end, all men, mage or not,lost to the ultimate power of destruction.

Seven woke up to the sound of bombs. She glanced around hurriedly, and soon realized that the midwife was gone. Whether she ran away or she went back to the main camp for some reason, Seven wasn't sure. The one thing she was sure of was that she had to run.

Or else she would die.

Seven jumped off the bed and headed to the entrance of the small hut. They were located in some distance away from the main camp, but the smoke and debris had already spread over to her area. She coughed, covering the bottom part of her face with her hands and ran out.

Once outside, everything looked different. The smoke was so thick she could barely see, and the noises made her ears ring. She tried not to breathe too fast, but it was impossible considering that her heart was beating frantically. Where was she supposed to go? Where was safe? Where _could_ she go? She looked around frantically, trying to decide where to run.

As if answering her question, a deafening rumble shook the ground, and the hut came falling apart. Seven scarcely had any time to react, she tried to jump away but the impact threw her off her feet, burying her under the remains of the stone hut. Seven cried out, filling up her lungs with smoke which made her cough painfully. She could've kicked herself if she wasn't already suffering with agony – the moment she hit the ground all of her breath was knocked out of her, it wasn't like she had a choice. The lack of oxygen was already causing her to choke in frustration, and her eyes were smarting from all the smoke. She flailed wildly, trying to free herself from the rubble which pinned her down, but she couldn't. It was too heavy and she was too weak. _She was too weak._

 _Help me..._ She willed desperately, reaching out her hands to cling onto something, but of course, there was nothing to hold on to. It was similar to her in a way. Her newborn son was dead, her family forgotten, and her identity lost. There was nothing for her to hold on to anymore. She could just die. She should just give up. She should just die.

Seven closed her eyes, all the fire gone out of her. Just as she was about to give herself up to fate, something grabbed her palm.

It was so shocking it sent Seven's heart beating wildly again. She opened her eyes as large as she could but her vision was already getting hazy. Something... no. Someone was holding her hand, clutching it, as if he was urging her not to give up. As if he was urging her to live.

How absurd. She must be dreaming. Why would anyone want her to live? She was only a child soldier, nobody cared whether she lived or died. She was just there to die for the she saw the man let go of her hand to push away the weight which was crushing her bones. She saw him grit his teeth as he pushed with all of his strength – until the weight fell away and only dust was on top of her. She saw him take her hand again, and lift her up with both of his strong arms, and then they were running.

The stranger who saved her was a dark-haired teenager with a black coat.

 _Maybe I wasn't dreaming after all_ , was what Seven thought before she fell unconscious.


	6. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

 _{ They say a person needs just three things to be truly happy in this world:_

 _someone to love, something to do, and something to hope for.}_

― _Tom Bodett_

She was in her mother's arms.

It was so soft, so gentle; it held her close like it was afraid to lose her again.

 _Why did you let me go, Mama?_

She grasped those arms tightly, snuggling against her mother's body.

A mother's warmth, that was what she yearned for. Her lips curled up into a satisfied smile – everything else was forgotten. She smiled happily, blissfully. She hadn't worked those muscles in such a long time, she was afraid they wouldn't work for her anymore. For a long while, she was content in just hugging her mother and listening to her calm breathing. Everything was serene. And for the first time in a long time, she was happy.

 _Mama, let's be together forever._ She mumbled, burying her face into the nape of her mother's neck.

It was then her body froze, her iron-made instincts screamed at her to get away. She jerked away, suddenly noticing that her mother's skin had turned ice-cold.

 _Mama…?_ She asked uncertainly, staring into her mother's eyes. In a second, those laughing brown eyes turned into deep pools of black holes, and her mother began to transform into something twisted.

She screamed, kicking as she backed away further and further from the monster which was transforming in front of her. Her mother's limbs broke apart one by one, until no more than a stub was left; and her hair started falling down like leaves during autumn. Her skin changed into angry pink, and her face morphed and morphed until it looked like something strikingly familiar –

 _Mother…_

"No… Get away, get away from me!" She wanted to get on her feet and run, but somehow they turned into dead weight. She could only drag herself away from the figure who was calling her, her eyes already wet with tears.

 _Mother…. Why are you running away…?_

"No… please…" Knowing there was no way out, she covered her face with her hands, her hands full of blood. And suddenly everything turned red, everything was painful, and everything was a nightmare.

 _She_ was the mother now. _She_ was the one who turned her child away. _She_ was the one who ran away from her son.

She had yearned for a mother's warmth, yet she had never given it to her own son. She was hurt at her mother for letting them take her away, but that was the very thing she let happen to him. She had once blamed her mother for not protecting her, but she could not even protect her own son. _It was not fair_ , she cried, she never had a chance, she never had a chance, she wanted to, but _she just never had a chance_.

The figure continued haunting her, taunting her, driving her to the corner where there was nowhere else to back away and screamed, and wept and accused her of everything she had ever accused her mother of.

And she sobbed, and sobbed, and sobbed.

When she woke up, the first thing she realised was that she was lying on something soft.

It took her awhile to register that she was lying on a bed. She had almost forgotten how it felt like, and it was so comfortable she could forget about the pain for a moment.

It was dark, save for the moonlight shimmering in from the windows of the room she was in. She couldn't move, so she tried to make sense of her surroundings using what she could see in her line of vision.

"You're awake," said the dark-haired teenager who was sitting on a chair near her bed. The shadows cast by the trees outside played across his face, obscuring his facial features from her vision.

Seven opened her mouth and tried to talk, but her throat was so dry she ended up coughing instead.

"Here." Water was placed against her lips, and she managed several small sips. The young man then removed the glass and put it on the table again.

"Where–" She started, but the man in black shook his head and told her not to speak.

"You are safe now." He said simply, giving her what she supposed, was a smile. It seemed like he was feeling rather uncomfortable, or more appropriately, awkward. It seemed like he didn't know what to say or what to explain for his actions.

She couldn't understand it either. She was more confused than happy at her survival. Why was it her who survived? Why _did_ she survive, after she had decided to give up? Why was he there? Why did he save her?

All those questions remain unanswered, he did not give her any answers, and she did not ask.

After a few days of resting, she soon found out from the nurses that the young man's name was 'Emiya Kiritsugu'. Despite having no relationship to her and having no reason to save her, he visited her every day at the hospital, paid for her medical fees, asked the doctors and nurses about her condition.

She could not fathom why he would go to such lengths to help her. Being mistreated and tossed around for so long, it was the act of kindness that struck fear into her heart, her mind struggling to find a reason for justify his actions. She found none. Every day she waited for him to provide some sort of explanation, even as he only visited for a few minutes each day. She did not know where he was from, as he spoke her language with a foreign accent. There was no problems with communication, since he hardly spoke to her anyway. Yet, it was this man of few words that made her nervous - as if she was about to pay a huge price for the kindness she had received.

And she was anxious to find out what it was.

The day before she was discharged, he sat down beside her bed.

"I need an assistant." He said simply.

Those four words seem to make everything fall in place. Seven nodded for him to continue. She was right, there was a price to pay. After all those days of guessing and waiting, she was finally going to hear it. Even though the doctors and nurses have been nothing but gentle and kind to her, there was always an underlying suspicion that they were going to do something awful to her after the initial caring treatment. She had never been treated like this before, and the confused soldier was simply at a loss of what to think.

"I am an assassin." The man named Kiritsugu said. "If you are willing to kill for a living, I can train you."

What surprised Seven the most was not that he was an assassin or that he was offering to train her.

It was the fact that he was giving her a choice.

She blinked, unsure of how to react. He was allowing her to say no? Wouldn't that mean that everything he had done for her would be in vain? She had been ready to become a slave, to be sold, or even to suffer a worser fate, but all her was asking her was to do what she had been doing her whole life - to kill for a living. And she was free to refuse.

"Why me?" She asked, the questions finally pouring out of her mouth. "Why did you save me?"

"It was too late to save anyone else." He shrugged. "You were the only one who was still breathing."

Seven stared. His answer seemed to make sense, yet it left her with more questions. Why was he there? Why did he wander into a bombing zone? Who _was_ he?

She kept her mouth shut. It was against the rules to ask questions, she remembered. Only she wasn't in the barracks anymore. She was with a man named Emiya Kiritsugu and was about to become his assistant.

She wondered if he would whip her the same way they had if she asked him those questions.

"I will follow you." She replied. _She had a purpose now_ , she thought. She had nowhere else, no one else to go to.

Emiya Kiritsugu nodded solemnly. "What is your name?"

"511207."

He frowned. "I meant your real name."

Confusion swept across her face again. "That is my n―"

It was then she remembered.

Emiya Kiritsugu is his name.

Her name was a number.

 _I meant your real name._

A wave of panic rushed through her veins as she struggled to answer his question. _She had a real name_ , she reasoned. She had just forgotten it because they were all commanded to forget their real names. But that wasn't all, there were more things that she had forgotten. Her past. What was she doing before she arrived at the barracks? Where was she living? Who was she living with? Her family? Did she have a mother―

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp sting that seemed to slice through her head. She whimpered, clutching her head in agony as pain engulfed her soul, blocking her from retrieving her memories. Like a blade, it sawed through her skull over and over again, the pain getting worse when she tried again to access her locked memories. Her fingers tugged at her hair as she curled herself into a ball, shaking and groaning as she forgot about Kiritsugu and the hospital that she was in, and everything in her world was pain, only pain.

She couldn't hear Kiritsugu yelling at her, telling her to calm down. She couldn't feel his steady arms on her wrists, trying to pry them away from scratching harshly at her scalp. She couldn't see the doctors and nurses rushing in, lifting up her sleeve to insert a needle into her right arm...

As her mind slowly became numb, and her body lost all energy, she felt someone gently laying her down on her bed. Looking up with a rather hazy vision, she could somewhat make out the face of a stranger with dark hair, the man who saved her life, now her mentor.

"We'll just have to think up a new name, then." He said in a low voice.

Watching the way he tucked her in, the way he spoke to the doctors urgently about something that sounded like 'post traumatic stress disorder', and the way he looked at her not of pity, but of purpose…

She silently pledged her life to follow him wherever he went.

And then all was black.

She was given a passport shortly after.

Her name was Hisau Maiya.


End file.
